❝ i-it hurts . ❞ the brief reminder that all her thoughts are narrowed down to this singular moment of pain and suffering . she’s tired , she’s aching all over . it should be inconceivable that a woman like her should ever have to go through such pain , such suffering . but it was the norm now , SHE WAS LEARNING TO LIVE THROUGH IT . the way that she swallows back howls of pain , screams of terror . the conditioning of her brain : quiet is safe , safe is being unseen and unheard . jake had thought her to bite down on the pain , to stifle the horror . she couldn’t always keep it in , but she was so quiet … so complacent in her own death .
some part of her forgives the killer ; because she too was a woman suspended . be it the spirit or the hag or anyone in between . the horrific realities of life , the knowledge of their own unmaking . claudette remembered the scrap of paper they had found . the twisting of flesh that did not obey , the snatching of sanity . she wants to go home , but right now she wants to go back to the campfire . ❝ y-you’re hurt … y-you can just l-leave me . ❞
herman’s voice keeps her from the brink from the twisting maw of death . she reaches out to fist a bloody palm in his filthy dress shirt . they were so much alike , and it seemed that they would die together ( but not alone , they had each other , that’s what mattered ) . she wanted him to be safe , she wanted him to get out . but she clung in fear of being alone once more . ❝ i-i’ll be o-okay… ❞
her selflessness is admirable, but won’t sway him. as stubborn as he can be about not making idiotic decisions when one loss would only multiply towards the end of a trial, he finds himself running back into the fray for her. only her. his legs feel like they could give way at any time as he traverses the boggy swamp, mud and muck squishing beneath his now worn dress shoes.
in the distance, he can see the entrance to the gate, and his chest swells almost painfully with the faintest glimmer of hope ----- until he sees a bulky, mask - clad figure, gleaming hooks jutting from its skin, standing patiently nearby. his shoulders deflate as that brief beacon of light gives way to darkness, despair.
one wrong foothold, and blinding pain shoots through his mangled leg like a rocket, bringing him to his knees with a low, agonized groan, head hung low in reluctant defeat. as usual, his mind’s going a million miles an hour, running through every possible scenario, analyzing every outcome -- and coming up empty. there is no happy ending to this, no chance for both parties to escape. even if they were able to find the other door, there wouldn’t be enough time to open it. his broad frame tenses, fingers trembling anxiously while they draw claudette close.
a flash of metal catches his eyes, hidden beneath the clumps of grass that litter the swamp’s muddy floor. as with most things in this realm, this exit comes with a price, one that he knows she won’t like, but also can’t protest in her current state. teeth clenched, he forces himself to his feet, legs wobbling with uncertainty, and approaches the hatch. once more, he drops to his knees. he’s nearing his limit. as gently as he can manage, he places her next to the trap door, one arm keeping her upright.
‘ 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨, ’ he mutters, brown eyes staring intently into hers. he knows it’ll be over quickly once he makes his presence known -- he’d already watched the grizzled veteran being hacked apart by the killer’s cleaver, his old body flayed and bleeding. ‘ don’t argue ; there isn’t time. ’
wearily, he rests his forehead against hers and sighs, eyes closed in a silent apology. this isn’t the ending he wanted, either.
‘ i’ll see you at the campfire. ’
before she can protest, he staggers to his feet and limps his way into the chilling fog -- saddened, spent, sated only by the knowledge that he’s given her a chance.
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